Tonight
Tonight the blank, white sheet stared back at her, as it had every night since he left. Two weeks, a full fourteen days, of writer’s block. She hated herself for letting him affect her so and hated him even more. But, more than any of that, she loved him. She missed him; Her eyes strayed from the desert page before her to the solid silver picture frame under the goose-neck lamp that was her only illumination. Andrew beamed his golden smile back at her. His easy laugh was what first attracted him to her, his perfect teeth framed by full, sensuous lips. Of course, his eyes, their mischief evident even in a photograph.
Jean sipped the gin and tonic she had poured for herself earlier to calm her nerves. Andrew had called to tell her he was coming home tonight, a full day ahead of schedule. She savored the astringent concoction, swished it around in her mouth, feeling it roll over her tongue, before taking it into the back of her throat and swallowing. The burn oozed down her throat and settled in her gut, while her mind was becoming detached from the immediate, floating with no fixed reference.
It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, time had turned into a hazy cloud, when she heard the key slide into the lock of the apartment door. It twisted back and forth several times, as if jammed, then the bolt withdrew and the door opened. She started to rise, to go meet him, but she stopped and turned back to her chair. She settled in and refused to look towards the door. Let him come to her, after all, it was he who made her suffer so. He had once told her that her stubbornness was challenging and sexy. Now he would get to experience it at full force.
She stared at the blank page in front of her, but her attention was on the sounds of the man in the room behind her. Her ears tracked his progress though the flat. The door closed, with a solid thunk, and the bolt snapped back into its recess. Footsteps, slow, heavy, cautious, pattered across the living room, down the hall, and stopped at the door to the bedroom in which she sat. A frisson ran up her spine and she felt her shoulders tighten. The footsteps began again, muffled by the thick carpet of the bedroom floor, and stopped, right behind her chair. She could hear him breathing, as her own had ceased when he set foot in the room. It returned with a sharp gasp as a masculine hand reached past her shoulder to the goose-neck lamp and, with a flick of the wrist, extinguished all light from the room.
Jean still refused to acknowledge him as he placed his strong hands firmly on her shoulders and drew aside the gown, exposing her delicate skin, He bent over, and she could smell him now, the slight musk of a day’s living, and stale scotch on his breath. The stubble of his beard brushed against her neck and his lips met her shoulder, She sighed, and began to relax, when she was struck by an unexpected pressure and then pain, radiating out from where his lips had been only a fraction of a second before.
When she had recovered from the initial shock, she opened her mouth to voice her objection, but he quickly placed his hand over her parted lips and shushed in her ear.. His tongue caressed the light indentations left by his teeth and as he felt her relax again, he took his hand away from her mouth, His scent lingered under her nose and as she licked her lips, ever so slightly bruised by his rough hand, she could taste the salt of his palm.
He placed his hands on her upper arms and with an upward pull, helped her from the chair. Kicking it aside, he stood full behind her now, looming over her, still, as she was dwarfed by his bulk. Her gown dropped to the floor and lay there between them a silken barrier of no consequence.
The night was moonless and the room was so black that, were it not for the faint glow of the stark white page still loaded in the Underwood, she would not even know if she were still facing the table. The gin and dark left her completely disoriented, her only reference point was the pressure of his hands on her arms. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating, to place herself completely under his guidance and control. She relaxed and melted into the inky aura of the room. He pulled himself closer, once again bringing his lips to her neck, just under her right ear, and drew his tongue lightly along her hairline, pushing aside her long blond hair, until he reached the very nape. He paused, then pushed h is lips against the tender skin. She sank into him, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh, barely audible. She felt his teeth scrape lightly against her again, she tensed and tried to draw away, but his grip was unyielding. He did not bite her this time, but let her feel the hard, sharp pressure, as his tongue gently massaged the skin drawn taut by the teeth. The sensations, light and hard, sharp and soft, confused her, but no longer frightened. Arousal was beginning to overtake her, from just this slightest of contacts.
Jean was giving herself over completely, as she felt the hands on her arms push her to face what she knew must be the bed, across the blackened void of her room, and then forward, cautiously, with trepidation. He stopped her, and pushed down lightly, so she bent her knees until they touched the soft duvet. This gave her some bearings, and he was able to let his hands fall away as she crawled up on the bed. How he was able to navigate the featureless landscape of the blackened room was a question that passed through her mind briefly, then driven out as she felt his weight press down on the mattress beside her. She reached towards the region in space where she was sure his face would be, but he pushed her hands away and, taking her again by the shoulder, rolled her forward until she was lying on her stomach, exposing her back to him, once again. She had never been treated this roughly before, not by Andrew, not by any of her lovers before him. In fact, her lovemaking experiences could be best described as uninspired, brief encounters of licking, sucking, coupling and release. Mindless diversions, needed, wanted, yet leaving a faint hollow feeling inside the afterglow. Engaging the body, but never the mind. Now suddenly, her mind was racing as never before, as she was trying to compensate for the loss of visual and aural clues.
His fingers traced a line from the small of her back up to her shoulder blades, then he flipped his hand over and slowly dragged his sharp fingernails back down her spine, pressing them hard feeling the shiver they elicited. With one finger he lifted the waistband of the black silk panties she had chosen expressly for her return. Black was his favourite colour, against her ivory skin. The finger pulled band high away from her hip. She felt a cold, steely sensation against her skin but before she could flinch it pulled away and the elastic of the panties snapped, flipping aside the sheer fabric, leaving her buttocks exposed to the open air and his gaze. Of course, he could see nothing in the inky darkness, but she felt her nakedness, none the less.
He made no effort to remove the rag remains of the panties, content to let them lay where they fell. His hand brushed against her, following the curve of her bottom to the crease of her leg, and back again, His hand left her body and she felt naked once again.
With a sudden crack, the air was split, the resounding smack and Jean squealed in measures of shock, pain and delight. She wriggled under the firm restraint of his hand as her skin became hot at his touch. Again his hand left her body, and again it landed across her buttocks with a smack. Each time her bottom grew warmer, and each time left her more aroused.
His hand left her yet again, and she raised her hips slightly to meet his stroke, but it never came. Instead, she felt a caress of hot breath on her sensitized skin, and the, in a rush, the sharp bite of his teeth, hard deep, persistent. The sensation shot up her spine, down her legs, to her core, and she let out a deep moan. Her brain knew that she should be feeling pain, but the throbbing between her legs betrayed her excitement.
He released his bite and, again, massaged the indentations with an appeasing tongue. She arched her back into his attentions, He responded to her acceptance by biting her again, and again, this time barely touching his teeth to her skin, the next leaving deep impressions in her tender flesh.
Jean had never felt this way before, it was as if her entire body were a single nerve, wired directly into her sexual center. Each bite was like a thrust, deep inside her, each lick telegraphed directly to her throbbing groin. The feeling of being touched when there was no physical contact, of being filled while still empty, f being completely enveloped when he was only barely touching her, was entirely new. It was as if she were a maiden again, making love for the first time, losing her virginity all over again, only this time it was complete.
The biting became lighter, gentler, and stopped altogether as he continued licking her, stroking with is tongue, probing, tasting. His tongue slid between her cheeks and then up to the small of her back. He slid up on top of her, over her legs and then up, as his tongue flicked along her spine, until he was covering her totally, pressing down with all his weight, pushing her into the mattress until it was a struggle to draw a breath. It puzzled her to realize that she was not afraid, that she had given herself over to his control. The duvet cover slid over her nipples, reminding her that they were erect, as hard as marbles, aching as they stretched the skin of her breasts. Aching like they were going to explode, aching to be touched, licked, sucked deep into his mouth. Aching to be bitten. She tried to squirm, to rub them more against the rough fabric, to give some relief, but his bulk restrained her as effectively as any ropes. She was at his will.
He bit the base of her neck gently and she let out an involuntary moan under her breath. He bit harder and this time she quivered, and the moan was louder, more certain. Jean did not know where to concentrate, on the weight pinning her down, the throbbing of her nipples, the scraping of his teeth across her shoulders, the wetness soaking between her legs, or the dizzying buzz that raced around and around in her mind.
He continued to bite her, little nips along her neck, reaching around and up to her ear. He sucked her lower lobe into his mouth, and then allowed it to escape, dragging along his nearly clenched teeth. Jean bucked in a convulsion that ran down her spine to her toes, while letting a long, low sigh slide past her quivering lips and roll across the bed. The spasm rebounded off her toe-tips and worked its way back through her core to the top of her head causing her womb to contract and her stomach to flip, when, to her complete surprise he opened his mouth wide and engulfed her ear whole, taking it into the warm, wet cavern, and closing his firm lips over the lobe. His tongue explored the delicate folds, as Jean gasped in shock, with a sharp intake of her breath. He continued to massage her ear with his wet, probing muscle. Jean’s breathing grew shorter, quicker, squealing pants that were building in intensity, until she was crying out in ecstasy. Her entire body was quivering, she clenched the duvet in her fists, and pulled herself down into the bed.
The orgasm took her completely by surprise. He probed her ear slowly, matching the spasms that racked her over and over again, until finally, she was still, lying under him, totally spent.
She took in a deep breath and let it out again is a final sigh of ultimate satisfaction. He released her ear and traced her neck with gentle kisses, as he lifted himself off, and away from her. She was limp on the bed, a shadow, with no will or ability to move herself.
How long she lay there, a minute, 2 hours, she could not say, but she was roused when the overhead light burst on with a snap of the wall switch. She turned her head to face the door, framing Andrew, looking so damn handsome in his black double breasted suit, his eyes dancing, his perfect smile beaming at the sight of her, lying naked on the bed.
She leapt up and raced to hug him. They embraced, he kissed the top of her head and inhaled her sweet perfume. He loved to smell her hair.
She held him tight to her, purring in her contented way, rubbing her naked body against the rough cloth of his suit. She felt him stiffen, and then loosen his grasp of her. Without any warning, or word he pushed her away, threw her into the room, with a violence that confused and hurt her. As she watched in disbelief, he turned and stormed out of the room. She was still standing there, naked, mouth agape, when she heard the front door open, then slam shut again.
Jean stood in the center of the over bright room, stunned by Andrew, not understanding what had just happened, not knowing what he was thinking. She stood there for a very long time, numb and confused, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Eventually, the chill of the room made it’s impression on her confused mind and she turned her head, looking around for her robe. She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that was on her wall, directly behind where she had been standing. In the mirror, she could see the red welts rising up on her back, perfect crescents, like parentheses. Except, not quite. Something was not right. She looked again, then moved closer to the mirror, turned her back to it and peered at the marks on her shoulders. There, in the mirror were the crescents of bite marks, arcs of perfect teeth, perfect in every way. Except, in every mark was a gap where one upper incisor was completely missing.
Jean sipped the gin and tonic she had poured for herself earlier to calm her nerves. Andrew had called to tell her he was coming home tonight, a full day ahead of schedule. She savored the astringent concoction, swished it around in her mouth, feeling it roll over her tongue, before taking it into the back of her throat and swallowing. The burn oozed down her throat and settled in her gut, while her mind was becoming detached from the immediate, floating with no fixed reference.
It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, time had turned into a hazy cloud, when she heard the key slide into the lock of the apartment door. It twisted back and forth several times, as if jammed, then the bolt withdrew and the door opened. She started to rise, to go meet him, but she stopped and turned back to her chair. She settled in and refused to look towards the door. Let him come to her, after all, it was he who made her suffer so. He had once told her that her stubbornness was challenging and sexy. Now he would get to experience it at full force.
She stared at the blank page in front of her, but her attention was on the sounds of the man in the room behind her. Her ears tracked his progress though the flat. The door closed, with a solid thunk, and the bolt snapped back into its recess. Footsteps, slow, heavy, cautious, pattered across the living room, down the hall, and stopped at the door to the bedroom in which she sat. A frisson ran up her spine and she felt her shoulders tighten. The footsteps began again, muffled by the thick carpet of the bedroom floor, and stopped, right behind her chair. She could hear him breathing, as her own had ceased when he set foot in the room. It returned with a sharp gasp as a masculine hand reached past her shoulder to the goose-neck lamp and, with a flick of the wrist, extinguished all light from the room.
Jean still refused to acknowledge him as he placed his strong hands firmly on her shoulders and drew aside the gown, exposing her delicate skin, He bent over, and she could smell him now, the slight musk of a day’s living, and stale scotch on his breath. The stubble of his beard brushed against her neck and his lips met her shoulder, She sighed, and began to relax, when she was struck by an unexpected pressure and then pain, radiating out from where his lips had been only a fraction of a second before.
When she had recovered from the initial shock, she opened her mouth to voice her objection, but he quickly placed his hand over her parted lips and shushed in her ear.. His tongue caressed the light indentations left by his teeth and as he felt her relax again, he took his hand away from her mouth, His scent lingered under her nose and as she licked her lips, ever so slightly bruised by his rough hand, she could taste the salt of his palm.
He placed his hands on her upper arms and with an upward pull, helped her from the chair. Kicking it aside, he stood full behind her now, looming over her, still, as she was dwarfed by his bulk. Her gown dropped to the floor and lay there between them a silken barrier of no consequence.
The night was moonless and the room was so black that, were it not for the faint glow of the stark white page still loaded in the Underwood, she would not even know if she were still facing the table. The gin and dark left her completely disoriented, her only reference point was the pressure of his hands on her arms. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating, to place herself completely under his guidance and control. She relaxed and melted into the inky aura of the room. He pulled himself closer, once again bringing his lips to her neck, just under her right ear, and drew his tongue lightly along her hairline, pushing aside her long blond hair, until he reached the very nape. He paused, then pushed h is lips against the tender skin. She sank into him, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh, barely audible. She felt his teeth scrape lightly against her again, she tensed and tried to draw away, but his grip was unyielding. He did not bite her this time, but let her feel the hard, sharp pressure, as his tongue gently massaged the skin drawn taut by the teeth. The sensations, light and hard, sharp and soft, confused her, but no longer frightened. Arousal was beginning to overtake her, from just this slightest of contacts.
Jean was giving herself over completely, as she felt the hands on her arms push her to face what she knew must be the bed, across the blackened void of her room, and then forward, cautiously, with trepidation. He stopped her, and pushed down lightly, so she bent her knees until they touched the soft duvet. This gave her some bearings, and he was able to let his hands fall away as she crawled up on the bed. How he was able to navigate the featureless landscape of the blackened room was a question that passed through her mind briefly, then driven out as she felt his weight press down on the mattress beside her. She reached towards the region in space where she was sure his face would be, but he pushed her hands away and, taking her again by the shoulder, rolled her forward until she was lying on her stomach, exposing her back to him, once again. She had never been treated this roughly before, not by Andrew, not by any of her lovers before him. In fact, her lovemaking experiences could be best described as uninspired, brief encounters of licking, sucking, coupling and release. Mindless diversions, needed, wanted, yet leaving a faint hollow feeling inside the afterglow. Engaging the body, but never the mind. Now suddenly, her mind was racing as never before, as she was trying to compensate for the loss of visual and aural clues.
His fingers traced a line from the small of her back up to her shoulder blades, then he flipped his hand over and slowly dragged his sharp fingernails back down her spine, pressing them hard feeling the shiver they elicited. With one finger he lifted the waistband of the black silk panties she had chosen expressly for her return. Black was his favourite colour, against her ivory skin. The finger pulled band high away from her hip. She felt a cold, steely sensation against her skin but before she could flinch it pulled away and the elastic of the panties snapped, flipping aside the sheer fabric, leaving her buttocks exposed to the open air and his gaze. Of course, he could see nothing in the inky darkness, but she felt her nakedness, none the less.
He made no effort to remove the rag remains of the panties, content to let them lay where they fell. His hand brushed against her, following the curve of her bottom to the crease of her leg, and back again, His hand left her body and she felt naked once again.
With a sudden crack, the air was split, the resounding smack and Jean squealed in measures of shock, pain and delight. She wriggled under the firm restraint of his hand as her skin became hot at his touch. Again his hand left her body, and again it landed across her buttocks with a smack. Each time her bottom grew warmer, and each time left her more aroused.
His hand left her yet again, and she raised her hips slightly to meet his stroke, but it never came. Instead, she felt a caress of hot breath on her sensitized skin, and the, in a rush, the sharp bite of his teeth, hard deep, persistent. The sensation shot up her spine, down her legs, to her core, and she let out a deep moan. Her brain knew that she should be feeling pain, but the throbbing between her legs betrayed her excitement.
He released his bite and, again, massaged the indentations with an appeasing tongue. She arched her back into his attentions, He responded to her acceptance by biting her again, and again, this time barely touching his teeth to her skin, the next leaving deep impressions in her tender flesh.
Jean had never felt this way before, it was as if her entire body were a single nerve, wired directly into her sexual center. Each bite was like a thrust, deep inside her, each lick telegraphed directly to her throbbing groin. The feeling of being touched when there was no physical contact, of being filled while still empty, f being completely enveloped when he was only barely touching her, was entirely new. It was as if she were a maiden again, making love for the first time, losing her virginity all over again, only this time it was complete.
The biting became lighter, gentler, and stopped altogether as he continued licking her, stroking with is tongue, probing, tasting. His tongue slid between her cheeks and then up to the small of her back. He slid up on top of her, over her legs and then up, as his tongue flicked along her spine, until he was covering her totally, pressing down with all his weight, pushing her into the mattress until it was a struggle to draw a breath. It puzzled her to realize that she was not afraid, that she had given herself over to his control. The duvet cover slid over her nipples, reminding her that they were erect, as hard as marbles, aching as they stretched the skin of her breasts. Aching like they were going to explode, aching to be touched, licked, sucked deep into his mouth. Aching to be bitten. She tried to squirm, to rub them more against the rough fabric, to give some relief, but his bulk restrained her as effectively as any ropes. She was at his will.
He bit the base of her neck gently and she let out an involuntary moan under her breath. He bit harder and this time she quivered, and the moan was louder, more certain. Jean did not know where to concentrate, on the weight pinning her down, the throbbing of her nipples, the scraping of his teeth across her shoulders, the wetness soaking between her legs, or the dizzying buzz that raced around and around in her mind.
He continued to bite her, little nips along her neck, reaching around and up to her ear. He sucked her lower lobe into his mouth, and then allowed it to escape, dragging along his nearly clenched teeth. Jean bucked in a convulsion that ran down her spine to her toes, while letting a long, low sigh slide past her quivering lips and roll across the bed. The spasm rebounded off her toe-tips and worked its way back through her core to the top of her head causing her womb to contract and her stomach to flip, when, to her complete surprise he opened his mouth wide and engulfed her ear whole, taking it into the warm, wet cavern, and closing his firm lips over the lobe. His tongue explored the delicate folds, as Jean gasped in shock, with a sharp intake of her breath. He continued to massage her ear with his wet, probing muscle. Jean’s breathing grew shorter, quicker, squealing pants that were building in intensity, until she was crying out in ecstasy. Her entire body was quivering, she clenched the duvet in her fists, and pulled herself down into the bed.
The orgasm took her completely by surprise. He probed her ear slowly, matching the spasms that racked her over and over again, until finally, she was still, lying under him, totally spent.
She took in a deep breath and let it out again is a final sigh of ultimate satisfaction. He released her ear and traced her neck with gentle kisses, as he lifted himself off, and away from her. She was limp on the bed, a shadow, with no will or ability to move herself.
How long she lay there, a minute, 2 hours, she could not say, but she was roused when the overhead light burst on with a snap of the wall switch. She turned her head to face the door, framing Andrew, looking so damn handsome in his black double breasted suit, his eyes dancing, his perfect smile beaming at the sight of her, lying naked on the bed.
She leapt up and raced to hug him. They embraced, he kissed the top of her head and inhaled her sweet perfume. He loved to smell her hair.
She held him tight to her, purring in her contented way, rubbing her naked body against the rough cloth of his suit. She felt him stiffen, and then loosen his grasp of her. Without any warning, or word he pushed her away, threw her into the room, with a violence that confused and hurt her. As she watched in disbelief, he turned and stormed out of the room. She was still standing there, naked, mouth agape, when she heard the front door open, then slam shut again.
Jean stood in the center of the over bright room, stunned by Andrew, not understanding what had just happened, not knowing what he was thinking. She stood there for a very long time, numb and confused, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Eventually, the chill of the room made it’s impression on her confused mind and she turned her head, looking around for her robe. She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that was on her wall, directly behind where she had been standing. In the mirror, she could see the red welts rising up on her back, perfect crescents, like parentheses. Except, not quite. Something was not right. She looked again, then moved closer to the mirror, turned her back to it and peered at the marks on her shoulders. There, in the mirror were the crescents of bite marks, arcs of perfect teeth, perfect in every way. Except, in every mark was a gap where one upper incisor was completely missing.
